"Doc, please," Lady Jaye swatted at the flashlight in his hand, trying to get it away from her eyes.

"Your name?" He narrowed his eyes on her, growing increasingly more frustrated with her sarcasm.

"Minnie Mouse," she crossed her arms, sticking her tongue out. She growled softly, glancing towards Scarlett as she watched from the doorway. She was doing her best to suppress her giggles.

"Let's try again," Doc reached for her hand, glaring over his shoulder at Scarlett as she left the room. "Your name is?"

"Alison."

"Alison what?"

"Do we have to go through this again?" She rolled her eyes up at him. "My head's still fuzzy," she placed her hands to her temples.

"All right," he growled, stepping away from her. "A few more questions and we're done. Now, your FULL name?"

"Alison Rachel Hart-Burnett."

"Thank you," he sighed heavily.

"Where are you from?"

"Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts by way of Callendar, Scotland it seems," exasperation filled her voice. "Can I leave my room?"

"I thought you were tired," Doc smirked.

"Tired of the Spanish Inquisition..."

"You know, if you were a bit more cooperative." A deep chuckle interrupted Doc.

"How's she doing?"

"Obstinate, as usual," Doc spat, packing his bag. "I'll leave the two of you to talk," he patted Flint's shoulder on the way out, dragging Scarlett along with him.

"Hey, beautiful," he pulled up a chair beside the bed.

"Hey, yourself," she smiled back.

"How are you feeling? You had me worried," he gushed.

"Dash, please, tell him to let me out of here," she pleaded, shifting herself up to face him.

"He just wants to keep an eye on you."

"I'm feeling fine," she noticed the crease in his brow. "All right, a little drained but I don't want to be cooped up all day. Please...."

"I'll talk to Doc," he leaned closer, lifting her hands in his. Tracing his thumbs over the outside of her hands, he searched for his next words.

"What's the matter? You're never this tongue tied," she tugged her hands free, lifting one under his chin to look at her.

"I thought you were..."

"COBRA's not that good a shot," she joked, stroking her fingertips along his chin. "I got lost," she looked down, finding herself at a loss for words. "Why? Why go to all the trouble just to keep me?" She slowly shook her head. "They could have just turned me over to COBRA." She watched him bite his lower lip before tracing it with the tip of his tongue, gathering his thoughts. "Dash...tell me what's bothering you," she jostled his arm. "Please..."

"How much...do you know of your family history?" He cautiously ventured.

"My parents were born in Scotland. This is, or was, my Grandmother Burnett's estate. Why?" She frowned.

"Any aunts or uncles?" He pressed.

"No...why?" She waited, observing him clenching and unclenching his fists. "Dash, what's wrong? If this is about Destro locking me up as his niece, the man's lost his bloody mind." She clasped her hand over his, stopping him.

"He IS your uncle," he fumed, looking past her to regain his control. "He had no intention of handing you over to COBRA. He wanted to put you in line..."

"In line for what?" She glared back at him, demanding an answer.

"He wanted you to marry Ian to..."

"I'm not married to Ian; I can't be. I don't remember marrying him," she frowned, attempting to recall every detail. She blushed, recalling the beach. Her eyes nearly popped out at the memory of the lodge. "Oh my God," she gulped, paling. "I thought it was you. I thought you were..."

"Shh...calm down," he soothed her. "You're not married to him." He watched her exhaled a deep breath, regaining her composure. "You're married to me," he rushed.

"Huh? Did I miss something?" Her jaw slackened, falling open. "How? When? For that matter, where?"

"You remember that festival we attended in the highlands?" He snickered, raising a brow.

"Yeah, why?"

"The handfasting?" He flashed his infamous lopsided grin.

"Dash...it's not what you... think," she stammered.

"The guy was a real minister," Flint sighed heavily, keeping an eye on her as she tried to speak. The words eluded her. "Easy, babe, I just got you back," he rubbed his hand over her back.

"You're sure?" She choked, seeing his grin widen. "You're taking this rather well." She gulped, staring down at her hands.

"The shock wore off fast," he chuckled. "Granted, I never imagined I'd get married that way."

"Dash... just how did you find out?"

"I slipped up by telling your father about our trip to Aberdeen."

"YOU TOLD MY FATHER?" She nearly shouted.

"Shhh....easy, sweetheart, he took it rather well."

"I'm sure he did," she groaned, falling back against the pillows.

"It's the only thing that threw out your...ah... marriage...to Ian," he sneered the name.

"I bet. Tell me, did he mention how he found out?"

"He sent one of his friends to check it out." He shrugged, running his hand over the blanket, covering her leg.

"Do you know which one?" She pressed, struggling to sit up.

"No, he didn't say. Why?" He placed a hand to her shoulder, assisting her.

"Where's he at?"

"He's home...Martha's Vineyard.... Allie, honey, calm down. I thought you'd be shocked but..."

"I'm not upset," she recovered, smiling back at him. "Question is... how are you handling it?

"Better, now that you're back," he grinned, leaning down to kiss her when he murmured, "Just excuse me if I want to occasionally kill your uncle."

"You'll have to stand in line behind me, buddy," she smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

*****

"Actually, the plan's quite simple," Zartan boasted. "We'll follow the Joes when they leave."

"We've had them under constant surveillance," Ian snarled.

"They're bound to tip their hand," Zartan shifted his attention to Destro, standing by the window.

"Agreed. Ian, provide Zartan the men he needs. I have more company it seems," he scowled at a crowd forming in the quad and signaled to Liam.

"Who?" Ian walked to examine the scene unfolding.

"He's of no consequence to you. Take Zartan out of here, now... before he's seen," Destro nodded, watching the two men leave through a side door.

A loud knock at the door a few minutes later heralded his next guest's arrive. Destro stood to his full height, accessing the man before him. "It's been a long time, Jason."

"James."

"You may leave, Liam," Destro dismissed the grenadier, catching a warning look from him. "Jason and I have an uneasy truce; there's no need to be concerned. Is there?" He glared back a Jason.

"Only for Amanda's sake," Jason scowled, observing Liam as he bowed to Destro's command.

They waited for the door to close before continuing.

"I must say, this comes as a shock to me. I never expected you to show your face here again."

"You forced the issue, James." Jason locked eyes with him before surveying the room. His eyes fell on a picture propped up on Destro desk. "Allie? I thought she was here." Jason smirked, shaking his head as he lifted the frame to trace his fingers over his daughter's smile.

"Where is she, Jason?"

"Not a clue," he lied smoothly.

"Don't play me for a fool. You came here to gloat. Speak your mind," Destro snatched the picture back, setting it in its place.

"She's nothing to you. You nearly killed her with that bloody contraption around her neck."

"She's my heir. Where is she, Jason?" Destro leaned forward.

"Perfectly safe."

"We've searched everywhere. She has a husband worried sick over her," Destro reasoned.

"Aye, that she does. See for your self," Jason shoved a file into Destro's hands.

"What's this?" He frowned, turning to the first page. Jason watch his eyes widened. "This can't be...this can't be. She can't be."

"Oh, it's true," Jason smirked, pointing to the page Destro scrutinized.

"This is all your fault, raising her in America," Destro exploded, turning page after page. "How do I know this isn't a fraud you've created?"

"Amanda and I never met the man until recently, but I can tell you this. He'd make mincemeat out of that Buchanan lad in no time flat if he tries anything with Alison."

"Where is she?" Destro raked his hand over his face, setting the file down on the desk.

"With her husband, that's all I'm saying for now. Get her out of this Buchanan mess and let her go, James."

"It's not that easy," Destro growled.

"You're the Laird. You can fix it."

"All right, I'll see what I can do. But, in the meantime, I want to see AilĂ­se."

"Alison," Jason corrected.

"Alison," Destro sighed heavily, lifting the phone. "Daniel Buchanan, please. Tell him its Destro."